


In the End When We Lose Our Way

by briaeveridian



Series: Crossover AUs [3]
Category: Blade Runner (Movies), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Harrison Ford as Deckard works well!, One Shot, Rey POV, WATCH THIS MOVIE IF YOU HAVEN'T, ben is Ana, blade runner 2049 crossover, honestly i fell asleep the first two times i tried watching that one..., i love this movie so much, in this au Rey doesn't die, rey is K, you don't really need to have seen the original
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briaeveridian/pseuds/briaeveridian
Summary: A Reylo/Blade Runner 2049 crossover wherein Rey is K (Ryan Gosling's character) and Ben is Dr. Ana Stelline (Carla Juri's character).
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Crossover AUs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918036
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	In the End When We Lose Our Way

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing from someone else's idea! What fun! I didn't explore what's outlined below, just one vital part in the movie I found to be especially well-crafted. The acting in this scene is superb. Go watch this movie if you haven't see it. It's incredibly underrated. 
> 
> *Inspiration post from @benperorsolo (Tumblr)*  
>  _“Rey is Kay, Ben is Ana, but instead of Rey maybe-implicitly-dying at the end, she successfully reunites Han and Ben and then she and Ben develop a friendship and then maybe something more. Rey learns to accept her status as an every(wo)man and Ben struggles to reintegrate himself into society and his family. They grow increasingly close as they help each other navigate their place in society-- for Rey, finding meaning and agency in being a nobody, and for Ben, finding meaning as part of a group. Also imagine for a second that Ben has developed an ability to implant memories in real-time in a replicant, and Ben and Rey learn to ‘share memories’ this way."_

The man kneels in the gloom, face fixed on a spiraling birthday cake hovering two feet above the floor. A segmented cylinder glints in his hands while he adjusts the rotating dials. The device looks comically small there, yet he moves it expertly with nimble fingers in an effort to craft something from nothing. 

_That’s more than I am able to do. More than I can ever hope to achieve._

Her gaze darts from the large man to the rapidly shifting cake. In quick flicks of light the color changes, frosting turning from chocolate to vanilla, and phantom knife patterns swirling around the circumference. Candles change their configuration, too, and she can’t help but gape at the scene. 

The room warms with the artificial glow and his face, half-observed from her vantage point, flares in stark relief. With his forehead lowered slightly in concentration, she notes his specific type of focus. It’s not oblivious or obligatory; instead, an eagerness brims all around him.

Dr. Solo is encased in this room, out-of-reach and protected. Rey wonders what his life could be like since he was deemed too fragile for the world she has thus far survived. _It must be lonely. It seems he’s able to somehow to cultivate happiness. Or at least satisfaction in purpose._

This isn’t how humans were meant to exist, of course. They are meant to have freedom, free will. Things a replicant simply cannot know. _Would I willingly leave all I’ve known behind? Do I want to be a human after living this way for my whole life?_

It’s a feedback loop of anxiety that she has become familiar with over the last day. She fears the answers she will find here, from this strange man. Nevertheless, she holds her breath and forces words into the silence.

“They say you’re the best memory maker there is.” The words sound clipped within the bounded walls. The upraised curve of cheek tells her a smile blossoms slightly.

“Well, then they’re kind.” His voice wafts over to her, soft and mellifluous. “I love birthday parties.” The statement is unabashed. Rey tilts her head, drawn to his openness. With a deliberate effort, she pushes aside the impulse to ask questions that do not pertain to her visit, questions about the man who builds recollections for manufactured beings. _Stay on track._

“You work for Wallace.”

“Sub-contract. I’m one of his suppliers,” he replies, creating a flurry of children around the floating cake. “He offered to buy me out but I take my freedom where I can find it.” Rey hears the proud defiance in his tone. His voice, though not the low timbre she expected, ripples out in undulating waves. 

“Why are you so good? What makes your memories so… authentic?”

“Well, there’s a bit of every artist in their work,” Dr. Solo murmurs, adding microexpressions to the children’s faces. “But I was locked in this sterile chamber at eight. So, if I wanted to see the world I had to imagine it. Got very good at imagining.” Rey wonders if she detects wistfulness or if the feeling comes from the scene before them. “Wallace needs my talent to maintain a stable product. I think it’s only kind.” He glances over his shoulder to look at her for the first time. 

Rey traces his profile, noting the way his lips hitch upward in a bittersweet way before turning away once more. “Replicants live such hard lives, made to do what we’d rather not. I can’t help your future but I can give you good memories to think back on and smile.”

Her breath becomes shallow and reedy, haltingly sucked through her open mouth. “It’s nice,” she rasps, hoping her gratitude reaches him.

“It’s better than nice. It feels authentic. And if you have authentic memories, you’ll have real human responses. Wouldn’t you agree?” She finds his note of innocence shockingly charming. The man inhales at the same instant the child in the hologram does so. They blow the candles out in unison.

After a moment the display fades in gentle languid spurts until he’s staring into darkness.

“Dr. Solo—” 

“You can call me Ben.” He stands slowly, arranging his limbs awkwardly.

She swallows, watching him. With bare feet he crosses the space, white slacks rolled up slightly to reveal his ankles. He wears a white shirt and pale sweater. An assortment of beauty marks draws her attention, followed by the roundness of his lips and curl of his almost shoulder-length hair.

Rey clears her throat, lips strung tight between her teeth. “Ben. Are they all constructed? Or do you ever use ones that are real?”

Ben gives her a steady look, forehead free of lines, eyes dusky from lack of light. “It’s illegal to use real memories, officer.” He stands close to the transparent barrier. _He’s so… tall,_ she thinks feebly. She wonders about the exact nature of his physiological compromises. How he must cope with the longing to venture outside.

“How can you tell the difference? Can you tell if something really happened?” She’s embarrassed to hear the tremor of desperation that clings to each word. A slight rush of blood makes her color as Ben ponders the question.

“They all think it’s about more detail. But that’s not how memory works. We recall with our _feelings._ Anything real should be a mess.” He pauses, gauging her reaction. “I can show you. Sit.”

Gesturing to the viewscope, Ben takes a step to his right and lowers himself onto the attached stool. Rey mirrors the movement after a beat. She attempts to thread herself together mentally, stringing the fragments of her recent experience into some semblance of coherence. 

The stool she sits on is cold, unmoving. She feels her feet press into the clean floor, arms resting on her thighs. Meeting his stare she feels herself take a deep breath.

“Think about the memory you want me to see.” His pronounced features are relaxed, patient. “Not even that hard,” he continues. “Just picture it. Let it play.” Ben looks to the viewscope and the machine on Rey’s side whirs. It’s a dull sound, almost meditative in its hum. 

She visualizes the wooden horse, seeing the figures in pursuit, the hungry lick of flames. With a jolt the visceral fear of the memory seizes her, making her vision swim momentarily. The feeling of it wafts over her and through the machine to Ben.

Breathing deeply, she brings herself back to the present. When Rey looks at him she’s surprised to see tears accumulating on his long dark lashes. In quick succession, he drags his knuckles under his lids, inhales heavily, and works his lips.

“Someone lived this, yes. This happened.” His tone is fractured, overflowing with meaning she senses he won’t verbalize.

 _I thought I knew myself and this life. I was only a replicant, crafted solely for a cause. Performing my duty of mercenary without question. Carrying out_ their _plans and goals. How can I think of myself as more? How can I accept the reality of being even partially human?_

Her throat goes dry and fingers curl in on themselves. Unconsciously her tongue runs along her lips. She feels dry all over, an exhausted dehydration wringing her out. Rey rubs her face and doubles over. In a rush of discomfort, she feels the discomfort of her thick jacket like a heatwave. She stares at the floor, torso becomes an inferno of confusion and rage. 

“I know it’s real. I know it’s real…” She lurches to her feet, only somewhat trusting her ability to stay upright. “Goddamnit!” Breathing raggedly, she glances toward Ben.

Tears gleam in the corners of his amber-brown eyes. The look he gives her is different than before; strained, recalculating, and perhaps more compassionate.

It pierces into her, sharp and painful and unwanted. Rey sees him move to rise and open his mouth. Instinctively, she runs from the room before he can speak. Whatever compassion or understanding he wanted to offer would surely demolish her flimsy defense.

 _This can’t be right._

Bursting into the snow outside of _Stelline Laboratories,_ she heaves, taking in too much cold air too fast. She swims amidst the descending flakes, each a dazzle of wonder and beauty. They fall in flurries, gradually causing the torrent within her to ebb.

Reaching out Rey lets the delicate bundles of ice, so intricate in their design, collect on her palm. _You have traveled far only to liquify here upon my hand. _A sharp wind cuts through her clothes. Turning to the sky, Rey lets her thoughts careen wildly.__

___My body. That which, in part, came directly from another body. What if I have a family, somewhere. Waiting for me. What if my journey is just beginning._ _ _

__A sequence of next steps takes shape within her mind, solid and clear. One by one the snowflakes melt from the temperature of her skin. _Skin. And sinew. And bone. All combining to help me get where I belong.__ _

__She rolls her shoulders and steadies her breathing. Despite the cold, she feels better outside than in that stark and empty room. _Thank you, Ben._ She shudders when she looks again at the cage that keeps him alive. _May we meet again.__ _

__Then, Rey starts walking toward that vague and enticing future, one foot in front of the other, feet imprinting on the ephemeral snow._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the [link to the fanart](https://myheartandsolo.tumblr.com/post/635433113191907328/check-out-this-beautiful-artwork-artist-is) by @tattoosbylily (that's her Facebook handle).
> 
> You can watch the scene I wrote [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oa9c9JBBGxM&ab_channel=Benatos/) if you feel inclined.
> 
> And Y'ALL. Watch some interviews with Harrison Ford and Ryan Gosling from this promo tour. They are GOLD.
> 
> ✨Thank you for reading ✨ 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://briaeveridian.tumblr.com/) where my SW obsession lives aggressively.


End file.
